Chapter Text
The worse Grillby’s mood turned, the less he spoke. He wasn’t someone who had a lot to say on a good day, but even his body language turned stilted and spare.
Sans noticed when his mood first went sour. "long day?“
Grillby shook his head and said nothing.
Sans shrugged and left it. Grillby usually came around if he had some time.
But the next day, nothing had changed. Sans occasionally got a single word out of him, or a laugh if he found a joke that was awful enough.
"so, what’d i do?” Sans asked, curious, after almost a week of the silent treatment.
Grillby seemed startled. It was the strongest reaction Sans had gotten from him since he stopped talking. "…it’s not you."
"okay. uh.”
He started to say something else. The silence stretched out.
“eh, take your time, buddy,” Sans said. He shrugged.
“…it’s really not you.”
“got it.” Sans nudged him. "what’d mom do?"
He shook his head.
"not her, either, huh.”
“…………I can’t.”
Sans’ other guess was that something was up with the restaurant, but he’d been keeping an eye out and Grillby was actually in a better place when he was working. It distracted him from whatever was up. "all right."
It was a couple more days before Grillby’s mood started to nudge back towards normal. Sans didn’t say anything, but he was worried. If Sans never found out what went wrong, how could he know it wasn’t going to go bad again in the same way, later?
He thought about shooting a message off to someone Grillby might have discussed it with, but ended up deciding to let it go. Maybe he’d push more if it came up again. He wasn’t sure if he was being respectful, or taking the easy way out.
–
"hey.” Sans went into the living room from his bedroom, through the kitchen door. He was tired of waiting for Grillby to come to bed.
Grillby broke eye contact with the television and nodded at Sans.
Sans was disappointed when he saw that Grillby’s dinner plate was on the coffee table, empty. Grillby always left a clean plate, which was a real let down when Sans wanted to sneak food off of him. Sans settled down on the couch.
Grillby watched him for a minute, and then turned back to the TV. Sans wanted to get into his personal space and fall back asleep, but the lack of warmth in Grillby’s greeting kept him on his own side of the couch.
“’s been a while since we saw a new movie,” Sans said. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes. "there’s that car chase one.“
”……next week."
"k. it’s a date.” He yawned and started to fall back asleep where he was sitting.
“Sans?”
“yeah?” Sans turned towards him without opening his eyes.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been acting strange.”
“if? nah, it’s fine. not like i don’t have my off days. heh. weeks.”
Grillby switched off the television. "I heard from someone I never expected to hear from again."
"old flame?” He cracked open an eyelid to see how Grillby reacted to the joke.
“…no.”
Sans was a little relieved. If Grillby got a message from an ex and was this worked up about it, that was bad news. "want me to keep guessing, or what?"
"It was…family.”
“ok.”
“Not someone you’ve met. My other parent.”
The one that had run off when Grillby was a kid. "oh. they just called up out of nowhere?"
"…they tried to connect with me…on the bar’s business page. And then when I checked my personal account, they had added me there, too."
Sans made himself sit up. He needed to wake up for this conversation. "but they didn’t say anything? maybe it’s someone’s idea of a bad joke.”
Grillby shook his head. "They did the same with my brother. He spoke with them."
"so it’s them. ok.” He rubbed his head. "what the hell? that’s kind of out of nowhere."
"I know.”
“and that’s kind’ve a, uh, not great way of getting back in touch.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Of course it mattered. Grillby was just doing the thing he always did when he was upset. He took it a bit at a time. Sans thought Grillby needed something from him, but his body language was so stand-offish, it was hard for Sans to figure out what he should do.
Sans yawned as big and fake as he could and lay down, settling his head on Grillby’s lap. Grillby looked briefly amused. He rested his hand on Sans’ forehead.
“ok. what’s the plan, then?” Sans asked. He didn’t see any point in arguing whether or not it mattered.
Grillby shrugged.
“you worried your bro’s gonna…push you into talking with ‘em?”
He shook his head. He stared at the blank television screen and idly pet Sans’ skull. “At least I know they’re still alive. That’s…something. They can go back to wherever they came from, now.”
“yeah. you’ve been doing pretty ok without 'em around.”
“I’ve been alive many more years without them here than with them.”
“right.”
“Well. If my brother wants to talk with them, then that’s fine. So long as no one expects me to get involved.”
“can’t say no one will, but you know pushing people to do stuff isn’t my thing.”
“It would be hypocritical.” He traced along Sans’ cheekbone.
“yup.” He knew Grillby wasn’t actually paying attention to what his hand was doing, but Sans was starting to wonder if he was being mistaken for a bony housecat. "anyway, you gotta make that decision, right? someone pushes you into it and the old monster runs off again, well, you’re gonna resent whoever sent you on that guilt trip."
Grillby looked down at him. His hand went still. "…that aside, I…am curious. What do you think I should do?"
Sans considered it. "you really want to know?”
He nodded.
“i say to hell with 'em.”
Grillby was somewhat startled. He stayed quiet.
“they wanted to be pals, maybe they coulda thought about that twenty years ago. i’m sure they’ve got their reasons. who doesn’t? but you don’t really have to care about those unless you want to. you’ve got your own reasons and you’re the one who got treated like garbage, so i don’t see why you need to bother.” Sans shrugged. "eh. maybe i’m petty, but unless you’ve got any reason to think they’re not just using you to ease their conscience and they actually plan on sticking around, what’s the point in putting yourself through the same junk again?"
"That’s what you think?”
“yeah. but, uh, don’t actually listen to me, grillbz. you decide to give it a shot, it’s none of my business.”
Grillby laughed. "I love you."
"thanks?” He wasn’t sure what prompted that.
“You’re looking out for me. In…your own way.”
“someone’s gotta be the guy who tells you to do nothing.”
“It’s true. I doubt I’ll get that advice from anyone else.”
“but i’m serious about you not taking me too serious. do what you want.”
“I was already thinking the same thing. It…wasn’t easy letting go of them, but I’ve been fine without them for a very long time.” He paused, thinking. “…at this point I don’t care about making them feel better. Or even finding out what this is about.” He sighed. "To hell with them." He sounded tired. "But I’ll be polite. They are a stranger, after all.” Grillby started idly petting Sans’ skull again.
“ok.”
“I don’t know why I was expecting you to say something different.” He shrugged. "Probably because of your father."
Sans was lying on a fire monster, but he felt cold. He hadn’t been thinking about his own dad at all.
"Sans?”
Sans blinked a few times and rubbed at his eye sockets. "yeah?"
"Are you all right?”
“yeah. look, your situation’s got nothing to do with mine. my dad, uh, really didn’t make the decision to leave. i suddenly got a message from him, well, uh. it’s…just not the same situation.”
“…right. I’m sorry. I…shouldn’t have brought him up?”
“i just wasn’t thinking about dad at all, really, so it kind of hit me outta nowhere. no big.”
“………right.” Grillby seemed to decide not to push at it. He patted around until he found Sans’ hand, wedged between his side and the back of the couch. He drew it up and kissed Sans’ fingers. "Thank you. For putting up with my moods."
"it’s pretty tough.” He winked.
Grillby dropped his hand.
“whoops, wrong line. let me get out my script.” He patted at himself, pretending he was wearing something with pockets. "uh. shoot. what about 'i wouldn’t bother if it wasn’t worth it.’"
"…that’s a little better? He took Sans’ hand back.
"what about, i dunno, 'i like when you trust me enough to tell me this stuff.’”
“Is it easier to say these things if it’s part of a joke?”
“ouch. you’ve got me pegged.” Sans held up his free hand and looked at it like he was reading off of it. "here it is. 'i figured you were having a rough time. anyway, i, uh, love you and all, so it’s ok if you’ve got your off days.’"
”…thanks. But that wasn’t the line, either."
Sans looked at the back of his hand. "nah. 'i don’t put up with you’ is yours.”
“I see.” He rubbed under his glasses.
“hey. you giving sleep a shot at all tonight?”
“In a little while.”
Grillby eventually switched the television back on, and they both fell asleep where they were.
-
Papyrus found them on the couch the next morning. Sans’ arm hung over the edge and his hand was touching the floor. He was snoring. If Papyrus was not used to finding his brother asleep under the sink, he would have thought Sans looked uncomfortable.
Grillby was still in his work clothes. He had begun removing his bow tie at some point, but stopped halfway through the process and it hung loose. Papyrus thought he heard a low rumbling in Grillby’s chest, like he was also snoring, but it was difficult to be sure.
Papyrus started towards the kitchen, determined to ignore them, but turned around right before the doorway and went and got one of the spare blankets out of the linen closet. He carefully put Sans’ hand back on the couch and draped the blanket over him. He stared at his brother, annoyed, and then went into Sans and Grillby’s bedroom and found Sans’ phone on the side table. The alarm was set, so Sans must have been planning on waking up to take Frisk to school.
He brought the phone into the living room and set it on the coffee table. He took Grillby’s dirty plate into the kitchen with him. He didn’t mind occasionally cleaning up Grillby’s dishes, since he was usually diligent.
It was not entirely normal behavior for Grillby to nap on the couch all night, even with Sans there to be a bad example. Papyrus had suspected for a little while that his friend was unhappy about something, but had not put forth his usual effort to find out what was bothering him and help. He would have to remedy that, and soon.
Papyrus had been leaving early and coming home late for several weeks, and it was getting in the way of maintaining his normal relationships.
He was actually engaged in a small deception, and was a little proud of his ability to keep the wool over his brother’s eye sockets for such a long time. Sans had implied on more than one occasion that Papyrus was over-working himself, but he did not seem to have sniffed out Papyrus’ real reason for barely being at home.
Papyrus managed to leave without waking anyone. He realized he must have a hidden talent for stealth. He stopped at a small apartment building on his way to work.